


An Understanding

by coraxes



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, Missing Scene, The Weird Fluff/Angst Combo This Ship Is Built On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coraxes/pseuds/coraxes
Summary: Eugenides and Attolia steal quiet moments between their engagement and their wedding night.





	An Understanding

The shadow by her wardrobe is dark and for once Attolia’s wish that it not be empty is not perverse.   Though perhaps improper, as they are only betrothed.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he tells her.

_Liar._ “What did you mean to do?” she asks, and when the boy says nothing, she sits up.  “Come here, Eugenides.”

He perches on the edge of her bed.  Faint light from the window reflects from his eyes. “You sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

“I dream sometimes that I’m made of stone,” she says.  His fingers press against her cheek, reassuring. 

* * *

At her insistence Eugenides shows her one of the passages he takes to sneak around her palace, and it is there over a decorative ceiling tile that Attolia kisses him for the first time.  He freezes and jolts back like a startled deer. 

In turn, she freezes, watching.  “I’m sorry,” she says; the first time she has said those words where he can hear.

“No,” he says, and shakes his head.  The corner of his mouth quirks into a smile.  “Just give me some warning next time.”

“Gen, I’d like to kiss you now,” says Attolia, smiling back, and does.

* * *

Attolia eases the leather cuff of his hook from his arm with careful fingers, eyes flicking up to him as she does so, and then peels off the soft cotton sleeve underneath the hook so there is only brown skin, callused and scarred and blistered.  Eugenides shudders as she runs her fingers over it.

She feels her lip curl as she stares, tracing over the raised line where his skin was stitched back together.  He catches the change in expression.

“Do I disgust you, Irene?” he asks.

“No,” she says.  The scent of hair oil still haunts her.  “ _You_ don’t.”

* * *

When Attolia is angry, she turns to ice and she plots.  When Attolia is angry with Eugenides she screams, she rages, she throws inkpots at the wall and at her fiancé’s head.

When Eugenides is angry at her he stands on the desk, the table, or the bed.  Once he even climbs into the rafters so that he can look down at her as he argues and dodges projectiles.  He yells at her as no one in her life ever has.

After one of their rows Attolia says, “You’re lucky I love you.”

He laughs and tells her, “I know.”

* * *

On their wedding night he sprawls over her sheets like a cat.  There is no trace on him of the earlier mood, either the heat of the fight or the cool awkwardness when they first went to bed--neither of them entirely sure what they were doing, both wanting to find out anyway.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Attolia says, and reaches out to trace the scar on his cheek.

“You look pleased,” he says simply.  His grin only makes him look more catlike, and then it fades into a smile so he looks like a man again.

(She is.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are <3.


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